Twisted
by Scarlett Rogue
Summary: ""Stay calm, don't panic," Sherlock chanted, spinning in circles in front of John's mirror. He never took much notice of his own body, but he was certainly noticing now, and this was NOT his body." Sherlock wakes up one morning with a woman's body, and he slowly finds out that he isn't alone.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: ""Stay calm, don't panic," Sherlock chanted, spinning in circles in front of John's mirror. He never took much notice of his own body, but he was certainly noticing now, and this was NOT his body." Sherlock wakes up one morning with a woman's body, and he isn't alone. **

**Rated: T  
**

**Warning: Hints of Johnlock (sort of)**

* * *

_Stay calm, don't panic_, Sherlock chanted, spinning in circles in front of John's mirror. His only friend had spent last night over at some woman's house, which Sherlock was very grateful for. John was good about accepting Sherlock's oddities without question, but _this _was a whole different story. If Sherlock Holmes had questions, then John Watson would have a million.

Sherlock never took much notice of his body, mainly because his physical appearance meant little to him. Dating was boring, so why waste time making himself look a certain way? He supposed he had a somewhat decent body, lean and becoming more muscular with each day, but he never cared to look for very long.

Well, he was certainly noticing now, and this was _not _his body.

"Oh...my God..."

Something happened, something Sherlock didn't understand, didn't even think was possible, but it happened and he was faced with the unbelievable, undeniable results. He was a woman.

Well, female, technically. His mind, however, still very much identified himself as a man. Gender and sex were two very different things, but that knowledge still didn't calm the man down very much.

His abdomen and arms were still pretty muscular, but his chest and shoulders were more narrow, and his breasts, though smaller than average, were a sight to see. His hips widened a bit, his backside rounder and fuller than normal.

So nothing much really changed; he was still lean, muscular and tall. His eyes skimmed over the dark patch of hair between his legs; he couldn't even _begin _to process that bit of information yet. The hair on his head was surprisingly long, billowing over his collarbone and breasts with dark, soft curls. His face was just as unusual as it was before, with the added hints of femininity.

No, this wasn't his body at all. But if he were being completely honest with himself, his female body was something to look at.

"Sherlock, I'm home!"

Sherlock watched the eyes in John's mirror grow wide with alarm as he reached for his robe and threw it on. He tied it quickly and contemplated hiding in John's closet. The irony of _that _situation certainly wouldn't be lost on John.

"Things aren't really working out between Karen and I," John said loudly as he made a pot of tea. "I thought it was, until...She's a great friend, but that's all she'll ever be. To me, at least. Are you listening?"

Sherlock steeled himself, taking a deep breath before marching determinedly into the kitchen. John had his back to Sherlock.

"Yes, of course," Sherlock answered, tone bored as ever, but inside his mind was racing. He tensed when he heard his own voice; the alto would not be lost on John's ears.

"You feeling okay? You sound a bit off."

"Yes, well, I _look _a bit off, too."

"What are you-" John turned and froze when his eyes landed on Sherlock. The tea had apparently been forgotten. After a few seconds John smirked and shook his head.

"Going off to a costume party? Bit unusual for you, don't you think? Parties were never really your thing. Though, I have to admit I like the hair. Very realistic."

"Oh, for the love of- look at me!" Sherlock shouted in frustration. John wasn't _getting _it, which made it that much harder for Sherlock to tell him.

"I _am_ looking. So who's hosting the party?" John leaned his back on the counter and sipped his tea, an amused twinkle in his eyes. Sherlock sighed heavily and untied the rope on his robe, letting the blue material slide down his shoulders and collect around his feet.

"Sweet baby Jesus," John muttered. Two seconds later his cup slid from his hand and shattered all over the kitchen floor.

"I'm not cleaning that up," Sherlock spat out. He watched the panic and confusion pass through John's eyes and felt like panicking, too. What if John freaked out? What if he called the nearest testing facility and Sherlock was locked away to be experimented on?

_John would never do that to you, calm down!_

"I don't know what to...How?" Sherlock was relieved to hear John's composer slowly coming back.

"I honestly have no idea," Sherlock sighed and yanked the robe off the floor, throwing it over himself quickly. The room was unusually cold today and his naked body really didn't appreciate it. "I woke up like this."

"S-some kind of drug?"

"Perhaps. Though I'll need tests done to prove- we're _not _taking me to a testing facility!" Sherlock said sharply. There were few things in the world that scared Sherlock, but one of them was the idea of being locked away, experimented on, taken out of the light forever to live in a box like some kind of animal, poked and prodded like...like a _freak_.

Sherlock shivered and pulled the robe tighter around his body.

"I wasn't going to suggest a facility, I swear! Lord knows what they'd do to you there." John walked away, leaving Sherlock standing alone in the kitchen. He sighed and poured himself a cup of tea. He figured John would need a few minutes to get used to this. Or hours. Days. Months, perhaps? You never really knew with John; underneath the pleasantries and ability to blend in with society, he was every bit as strange as Sherlock, in his own ways.

Sherlock took a seat on the sofa and sipped his tea, waiting patiently for John.

"Here."

John emerged from his bedroom and threw a pile of clothes at Sherlock. The man picked at the material, noting that it was definitely not John's usual attire.

"Where did you get these?"

"My sister left a few changes of clothing here when she last visited, so she had extra clothes if she ever stayed over unplanned. She won't mind if you borrow them. I think she fancies you just a tad."

"How is that even possible?"

"You're asking the wrong person, I'm afraid."

"At any rate, dull."

"Don't tell _her_ that."

Sherlock wandered to his room, removed the robe, and pulled on said clothing without another glance in the mirror. The tea had woken him up enough for him to realize that this was _real_, it really was happening, and though he never payed much attention to his male form, he was missing it now. He couldn't get used to the bob of his breasts, or the pitch of his own voice.

He pulled on the tight trousers and the pink bra, which had him rolling his eyes. Purple he could do; purple was a beautiful color, his favorite, in fact. But pink? Absolutely not. Next came the light green shirt, then the form-fitting black hoodie. He removed his long hair from between his back and the clothing and threw it over his shoulders. A few strands tickled his face but he liked it. He didn't need coat collars with this hair; the hair hid his face perfectly.

He would never admit that that was the reason he was always raising his collar. No one needed to know how much of a freak he felt like going out into the world.

"So, what are we going to do about this?" John asked, handing Sherlock another cup of tea. Sherlock was happy to see that he was still taller than John; the older man had to look up at him, though he seemed to be having some trouble in that department.

"I need to run some tests in the lab." He looked around, confused. "Did your sister happen to also leave shoes?"

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**So that be chapter one! Please review, next chapter should be up as soon as I can take a break from watching Doctor Who (someone really should have warned me how addicting that show is). **


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock strode confidently into the hospital, not for a second thinking that he would have complications getting to the lab. Everyone knew him, everyone knew he practically lived in that lab. The fact that he looked completely different hadn't registered until he was in the hospital, but there was nothing he could do about it then. He walked quickly to the lab, the familiar path taking longer than usual as Sherlock appeared to be walking in the most impractical shoes in existence.

Did John's sister really _need _heeled boots, anyway? They were a size too big, but Sherlock was quite grateful for that. He could actually somewhat feel his toes, but his heels were screaming out in pain. He ignored it and blundered on to the lab. The room was empty per usual and he got right to work.

Blood samples would be a necessity. Tests would need to be run in order to detect any kind of drug in his system that may have altered him. A urine sample might also be wise, though he loathed to be forced to pee in another cup. He hadn't done that in years, and the last time he was forced to...well, let's just say things were very different back then.

Sherlock's phone chimed and he yanked it off the stack of books that had been sitting there for a few days, since their last case.

Are you at home?  
**-Molly H.**

Lab.**  
-SH  
**

Stay there, don't move**  
Molly H.  
**

Sherlock stared at the message for a few seconds before he shrugged and set it down again. He reached down, unzipped the dreaded boots, and threw them across the room. As soon as his feet regained some of their feeling, he set about gathering a syringe and blood tubes, as well as the equipment to test his blood. **  
**

Thirty minutes later found two small tubes of his blood sitting on the table next to him, as well as a small cup of urine. The results for his blood would take some time; in the meantime, he placed one drop on a slide and looked for any abnormalities under the microscope. The door to the lab opened with a whoosh of wind.

"Hello, Molly. That took longer than I'd expect-"

"Oh my God!"

Sherlock's head snapped up at the unfamiliar voice that had just shrieked at him. His eyes zeroed in, widened.

The man in front of him was short, with short, sandy-brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was relatively skinny and fragile-looking in clothes that were about two sizes too big, as if they were borrowed from someone at the last minute. The mouth, however, was small and thin, and the nose slightly pointed.

"M-Molly?" Sherlock stuttered. Molly took a cautious step toward him, her hips still moving in a way that meant she was used to carrying rounder hips, but the motion looked odd and awkward on a frame so lacking in that department.

"How did you know it was me?" She whispered, eyes wide. Her voice had dropped, if only by a few fractions.

"Your face. It's you," Sherlock said. He stood up, pulled Molly away from the table, and walked circles around her, examining each and every inch of her that was visible. "Well, this is quite the predicament, indeed."

"Predicament? Sherlock, I woke up with a.." Molly looked around hesitantly and leaned in closer. "...a penis," she said quietly, looking again to make sure no one overheard her. "This is beyond a predicament. It's an impossibility!"

"And I woke up with a vagina," Sherlock said without hesitation, turning back to his slide. "We're in the exact same situation, so I suggest we put our heads together and figure out how we got like this."

"Okay," Molly slowly sat in the chair next to Sherlock. "Where do we start?"

"I need a tube of your blood and a sample of urine."

Molly blushed and turned to hide the red cheeks from Sherlock.

"Fine, just this once. But next time buy me dinner first."

She was happy to see the slight smirk on those soft, feminine lips as Sherlock handed her the proper equipment.

Two hours later, Molly was wringing her fingers through her unusually short hair and Sherlock was pacing back and forth, hair swinging with each sharp turn and whipping him in the face.

"Impossible! Nothing showed up in either tests. This is impossible."

"Maybe the trace had a limited time spent in our system before it became unnoticeable."

"Then why are we still like this?"

Molly shrugged and twiddled her fingers together. They had reached a dead end; none of this made any sense.

"I think, for now, we should just go home and try to relax. Maybe it'll wear off soon enough." To Molly's surprise, Sherlock was nodding quietly, one hand on his pointed chin.

"Text me if you think of something," Sherlock muttered as he pushed the horrible heeled boots back on and tried not to stumble out the door.

The flat was dark when he got back except for a light coming from his bedroom. Sherlock assumed it was John either replacing his unfit wardrobe, borrowing a shirt, or searching his belongings like he did on occasion. Sherlock assumed Mycroft always put him up to it. He walked briskly down the hall, prepared to throw Harry Watson's shoes right out the window if they pitched his feet one more time, then stopped dead in his tracks.

"Sherlock Holmes," a man greeted him, attempting a smile. He was standing in front of Sherlock's window with his back facing the glass, hands pushed in his coat pocket. The coat was elegant beyond what the average person would ever wear.

"And just who are you?" Sherlock walked slowly around his bed to the stranger. The other man took his hat off, pushed his thick black hair out of his eyes, and smiled warmly back.

"I seem to have misplaced my phone," the man said seductively. "You wouldn't happen to have it, would you?"

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Yikes, sorry this took awhile! Finally took a break on Doctor Who. To give you an idea of how much it's eaten my life, I started watching it nearly two weeks ago and am now half-way through the fourth season. Feel free to tell me I have no life, I won't take offense :D Anyway, I'm gonna start writing the next chapter now so I don't leave you waiting so long again! PLEASE REVIEW!


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